


Obi-Wan Kenobi and the Fountain of Destiny

by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Feel-good, First Meeting, Gen, Humor, Jedi, Jedi Legends, Jedi Temple (Star Wars), Jedi Training (Star Wars), Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Padawan Braids, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Pre-Canon, Qui-Gon Jinn is a nice person, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi, initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi, jedi order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachybitters/pseuds/Peach_Bitters
Summary: Every legend has a little bit of truth to it.A non-angsty take on Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's first meeting.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Quinlan Vos, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	Obi-Wan Kenobi and the Fountain of Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Just been having some Qui-Gon and young Obi-Wan feels lately. :)
> 
> Nothing really to warn for here except maybe some mild bullying if you're sensitive about that topic.

“Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan didn’t look up. At the front of the classroom, Master Ilmo was lecturing about Hyperspace routes and their connections to conflict, his back turned away from his students and toward a holoprojection of a star chart representation of the Droma Sector.

“ _ Kenobi _ ,” the whisper came again, more urgently.

Obi-Wan felt his face go hot. Why had Quinlan Vos had chosen the seat right next to him? Why did Quinlan Vos have to be in this class at all? He didn’t seem to be getting much out of it, that was certain.

It was hard enough to keep up without these kinds of distractions. At eleven, Obi-Wan was one of the younger members of the class, most students being in their mid teens. It was an honor to be here, but a challenge. Quinlan, for whatever reason, seemed intent on making it even more of a challenge.

The next moment, Obi-Wan found himself suppressing a yelp as the scalp behind his right ear suddenly burned fiercely. Quinlan had yanked his braid. This time he did look over, enraged, but not giving the padawan the satisfaction of seeing him rub the sore spot behind his ear (though he wanted to, desperately). Quinlan met his glare with an infuriating smile.

“Stop it,” Obi-Wan hissed.

A slightly older girl in the row in front of them turned her head to look disapprovingly - right at Obi-Wan. He blushed and looked away.

Master Ilmo droned on. Obi-Wan could feel Quinlan’s eyes on him, and felt nervous. It was hard to pay attention to both the lecture and anticipate Quinlan’s next move. He couldn’t be done yet. When Quinlan reached for his braid again, Obi-Wan caught the boy’s wrist this time. Grinning, Quinlan shot out his other hand toward his target. Obi-Wan could not suppress a cry this time and jerked away, sending a stack of texts clattering to the floor with his elbow. Quinlan snorted.

Master Ilmo turned to look at them. So did most of the class, actually. 

“Master, the younglings are being very disruptive,” complained a boy of about sixteen.

“Younglings, since you do not find my class suitably amusing, you may go wait outside until it is finished,” Master Ilmo told Obi-Wan and Quinlan. “I will be out directly to speak with you.”

“Please, Master, I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan stammered as he gathered up his datapads and books from the floor. His own childish voice in his ears made him cringe. Quinlan had already reached the front of the classroom.

“Go on, go on,” Ilmo said, waving his hand toward the door impatiently as if Obi-Wan were a needy loth-cat to be shooed away. He turned back again toward the projection.

Obi-Wan stalked out, not making eye contact with any of his classmates. An anger was beginning to replace his embarrassment, and he wasn’t particularly interested in suppressing it.

He had been trying so hard lately. He was getting to that age, he knew, where Jedi Knights and masters would soon start considering him for an apprenticeship. How he conducted himself mattered, not just how he handled a lightsaber. The crechemasters loved to point out that prospective masters were  _ always _ watching. Not just at the initiate trials or the yearly tournaments. They would see when you ran in the corridors, when you laughed loudly in the library, when you slid down the bannister by the statue of Kli the Elder instead of walking down the stairs properly. So Obi-Wan had been trying very hard. And Quinlan Vos was trying to ruin it for him.

Quinlan Vos! Somehow, he’d already been chosen as a padawan by Master Tholme. Quinlan was a year older than Obi-Wan, but had only just passed the initiate trials when he’d been chosen. Why Master Tholme had chosen a boy whose conduct was so lacking had been the subject of much debate and speculation. Currently, the rumor going around amongst the initiates was that the compassionate Master Tholme had felt so sorry for the crechemasters that he had felt compelled to take Quinlan off their hands. It was the best explanation anyone could think of.

Quinlan was standing over the fountain on the other side of the hallway when Obi-Wan came out of the classroom. He turned and waved toward him.

“Kenobi! Come over here.”

“No.” Obi-Wan sat down on the bench by the door, laying his texts down beside him and crossing his arms.

“You’re not mad, are you? Stop pouting! You should thank me for getting you out of that boring class. Ilmo’s going on about the same stuff he said last week. Besides, it’s all in the text.”

“You’re trying to make me look bad,” Obi-Wan huffed.

Quinlan rolled his eyes. “Force, you’ve been such a stiff lately. You used to be fun.”

Obi-Wan glared at the ground. He just wanted the class to end and Master Ilmo to come out and lecture him about his behavior so he could at least move on with his day.

“Look, I’m sorry okay? I shouldn’t have tugged on your braid,” Quinlan sighed.

Obi-Wan was silent.

Quinlan continued talking, undaunted as usual. “Remember how they used to say that if you looked hard enough, you could see your future in this fountain?”

“Only babies believe that!” Obi-Wan said. He didn’t tell Quinlan that only two years before he had once spent a good twenty minutes staring into the basin, trying to see something.

“There’s some truth to every legend,” Quinlan shrugged. “My master says that. And I really did think I saw something, just now. Come over here, okay?”

Reluctantly, Obi-Wan rose from the bench and went to stand by Quinlan at the fountain. There had always been something compelling about it, and not just because of the rumors. It was a plain fountain, plainer than most at the Temple. Unadorned and rough. But the water in it was clear and bright - brighter and clearer than it should have been, somehow, almost glowing. He looked down now into that clear water, seeing his own face reflected back at him in the mirror-like surface. There was something else too...the reflection of a man walking down the hallway behind them.

“Gaze into the mystical waters!” Quinlan cried before grabbing the back of Obi-Wan’s tunic then plunging his head into the water.

Obi-Wan emerged sputtering and enraged. “Vos!” If he hadn’t wanted a fight before, he did now, consequences be damned. But he hadn’t forgotten about the reflection of the man behind them. He turned around to see it was indeed a very tall man. Except for his height, he looked much like many other Jedi, long hair and bearded and wearing loose, sand colored robes, and at the moment a bemused expression as he gazed down at the two boys.

The Jedi looked like he had something he wanted to say, but before he could, Obi-Wan saw Master Tholme approaching from the other direction. “Quinlan, there you are. Come, we have urgent business with Master Yoda.”

Quinlan gave Obi-Wan one last grin before bouncing off to join his master. Obi-Wan clenched his fists, watching them go.  _ Come Quinlan, we are important Jedi and we have ever so many important Jedi things to do with Master Yoda _ , he thought scathingly, in Master Tholme’s voice.

“Here. Dry yourself.”

Obi-Wan looked up to see the Jedi had taken his robe off and was holding it out toward him. He took it a bit tentatively and began to wipe down his face and hair before handing it back. It felt strange to dry off with someone else’s clothes, but he was grateful. “Thank you.”

“I’m Qui-Gon Jinn,” said the man. “What’s your name?

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Well, that’s an easy name to remember. Rather musical.” The Jedi smiled. “I think I’ve seen you around. You were sliding down the bannister near the north spire this morning, weren’t you?”

“Uhh..” Obi-Wan’s face felt hot again. He had really thought no one at all had been around when he’d done that.

“I used to slide down that one when I was young, too,” Qui-Gon said conspiratorially. “Best one in the Temple, I think. Nice and long.” 

Obi-Wan grinned at that, but still was eager to steer the conversation away from his dubious conduct. “Are you a Jedi Master?” He asked.

Qui-Gon nodded. “I am.”

“And do you have a padawan?” Obi-Wan heard himself blurt out before he could stop himself.

“No,” Qui-Gon said, looking a bit wistful. “I’ve been on my own for a long time.”

“I’m sorry, that was too forward of me,” Obi-Wan said, disappointed in himself. He’d been a bit too emboldened by Qui-Gon’s bannister remark and had forgotten himself.

“No harm in asking questions,” Qui-Gon told him kindly. He walked to the fountain and looked into it, running a finger along the glassy surface. “When I was a boy, some of my agemates used to say that this fountain could tell you your future, if you looked hard enough. Not just your future, but your destiny. As clear as the water itself.”

“It’s not real, though,” Obi-Wan said, wanting to make sure Qui-Gon knew he had outgrown believing in such nonsense.

“And if it were real,” Qui-Gon said, turning back to him. “Would you want to see?”

Obi-Wan thought for a moment, frowning. Once, he had thought he’d wanted to. Wanted to have the assurance that he really would be a Jedi Knight, someday. And that he’d be a great one. But what if the fountain didn’t show him that? He wasn’t sure he could bear it. “I don’t know,” he said at last.

Qui-Gon smiled. “I don’t know either. Better to live in the present, isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan supposed so. He nodded.

“Well,” Qui-Gon said, “you must have somewhere you need to be. Initiates are generally discouraged from hanging about in the hallways.”

Obi-Wan sighed and nodded toward the classroom door. “I have to wait for Master Ilmo. Quinlan Vos got me kicked out earlier. He wouldn’t stop teasing me. And now he’s not even here.”

“Well, that’s good for you, isn’t it?” Qui-Gon asked thoughtfully.

“It is?” Obi-Wan asked.

“If Quinlan isn’t here, at least Master Ilmo will only hear your side of the story,” Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan smiled. He supposed Qui-Gon was right; it was better this way.

The classroom door slid open then and the students began to emerge. Obi-Wan watched them, feeling suddenly very glad that his head was now at least mostly dry. He felt the Jedi’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, and looked up.

“May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said. “Until we meet again.” Then he turned and went on his way. Obi-Wan watched him walk down the corridor until he disappeared.

“Where is that Quinlan Vos? He was told to wait out here.”

Obi-Wan looked over to see Master Ilmo standing over him. 

“Well, Master,” he said, smiling. “I suppose he had more urgent things to do.”


End file.
